And once it is free, I know that things can only get worse.
‘Annette – come here!’
The terrified sissy turns from the wall, performs a brief bob-curtsey and then rushes over to assist the mistresses in any way they command. As it turns out, her role is relatively simple: to help Mistress Celine pick me up and place me onto the exercise bike, so that my poor tormented back passage is positioned directly over the long hard phallus. Then I am released. The tip of the phallus quickly slips inside my arse, and within a few terribly arousing and terrifying seconds, I am completely impaled on this new tool of dark intrusion.
I squeal with fear and a terrible all-pervasive pleasure. I feel as if I am being split in two, rent asunder by the force of the phallus and the terrible white-hot pleasure it brings.
And no sooner am I locked so intimately and tightly onto the exercise bike than Annette is tying my bound wrists to a small metal eye positioned at the rear of the bike with a white nylon stocking. I feel my body pulled backward and whimper with helpless sissy fear. Yet even as I am being pulled one way, Mistress Anne is arranging for me to be pulled the other in a most uncomfortable and disturbing manner. I look on with a sense of increasingly eroticised doom as she extracts a pair of golden nipple clamps from a pocket built into the side of the bike. Her eyes sparkling with a cruel arousal, she holds the clamps inches from my tormented face.
‘I know you’ve felt the bite of the clamps before, mon ange; but I suspect the little torment I have in mind will be a slightly more refreshing experience.’
I shake my head angrily and squeal loudly into the fat white rubber gag. Mistress Anne laughs and very slowly, with a teasing sadism, slips the brutal teeth of the first clamp over my nylon sheathed and very stiff left nipple. As it bites into me, I unleash a somewhat melodramatic scream that attempts, in its pathetic way, to hide the dark pleasure this elegant and vicious torture inspires.
The second clamp is attached and my pleasure is doubled; then it is trebled for, as soon as the clamps are in place, Mistress Sophie takes the golden chain leash attached to each clamp and pulls it forward. There is a terrible and immediate counter-pressure. This is increased as the leash is slipped through a small metal hook fitted to the handlebars of the exercise bike.
Thus I am held fast in counter-pointed bondage. My high-heeled feet are then slipped onto the pedals of the exercise bike and secured in place with Velcro strapping.
Mistress Anne steps back and admires her ultra-kinky handiwork. At the same time, Mistress Celine and Annette move the platform containing the immobilised and utterly gorgeous Myriam so that she is directly facing my perversely tethered form.
Mistress Anne moves closer to Myriam and says something to her in a low aroused whisper. Myriam’s beautiful brown eyes widen in horror and she begins to struggle in the unyielding and exciting rubber body glove. I stare at her with a helpless fascination. I watch her tightly rubberised breasts wobble angrily and then notice an electrical wire running from between her legs and down onto the metal surface of the platform, where it is fitted to a small three-pronged plug.
‘At the heart of movement is energy,’ Mistress Celine teases, as Mistress Anne takes up the plug and fits it into a matching socket set into the front of the exercise bike. ‘And all energy is ultimately desire – the desire for movement.’
I ponder these opaque words with some difficulty, as I am aware of a growing heat in my back passage – the phallus is beginning to warm up.
‘I suggest you start pedalling, Shelly,’ the gorgeous black beauty says, her dark eyes filled with a cruel amusement. ‘There is an electrical heating element built into the core of the phallus, and it will soon become painfully hot. By pedalling you will open a diversion circuit and allow electricity to flow into another circuit that runs through Myriam’s body glove. This will effectively turn off the heating element and turn on the massage sensors in the suit and our pretty little French pet.’
I squeal and begin to pedal desperately. Almost immediately, the phallus begins to cool. Yet, at the same time, poor Myriam begins to moan violently into her thick tape gag and struggle pointlessly against her utterly unyielding bondage. I watch her large perfectly formed breasts bounce angrily and realise that, thanks to my own panic-inspired efforts, she is undergoing a terrible sexual torture.
‘The body glove is pure Senso rubber,’ Mistress Celine explains. ‘It is also fitted with a number of very powerful stimulation devices, positioned against all the key female erogenous zones. Also, as I am sure you have noticed, she is fitted with arse and cunt vibrators. These have been buzzing away merrily for the last hour or so, but are now positively exploding inside her. While this is rather exciting for a few minutes, I am afraid it will become quite unbearable for anything above this short period. However, if you stop, I am afraid the pain will be considerable, and thanks to your bondage, quite inescapable. So, it is your pain against hers, my pretty little sissy whore.’
I look at Mistress Celine in absolute astonishment: what have I, or Myriam, done to deserve this awful sadistic punishment?
‘You have done nothing,’ she says, her telepathy disturbing and arousing. ‘It is not a question of punishment, Shelly. It is a question of entertainment.’
And so I pedal on desperately, my eyes wide with fear and anger, but also with a helpless arousal. My thighs work with a fearful determination, my breasts tug painfully against the brutal clamps and I feel the phallus sink deeper inside me. Yes, once again, the wicked mistresses of the Bigger Picture are demonstrating painful inescapable truths. As I watch the beautiful French blonde wiggle, bounce and squeal, as I watch tears of utter horror and dreadful sexual discomfort pour from her honey-brown eyes, I cannot escape my own sadistic pleasure: I am pedalling not just to escape pain, but also to induce it. And when my eyes meet Myriam’s, I see something quite amazing: a recognition of my pleasure and an acceptance of it; I see the look she gave me as Christina and Annette took their cruel revenge on myself and pretty, dainty Pansy – a look of deep attraction; a look that holds a deadly consequence for me if I am foolish enough to return it. But I do return it. Yes, I am interested in her in a way that totally contradicts all the rules and regulations of the Sissy Maids Company and the philosophy and principles of the Bigger Picture.
As the bizarre spectacle of our deeply ambivalent torment unfolds, I cannot help but notice that the two beautiful merciless mistresses have now focused their attentions on Annette. The gorgeous red-headed sissy has been taken to the side of the studio and is now being forced to strip. Tears of divine humiliation flood from her pretty green eyes as she slips reluctantly out of her lovely maid’s attire, and very soon she is standing in a sexy pile of satin, silk and nylon, stripped down to a splendidly intricate black silk teddy, black silk stockings held in place by red silk-lined garters, and her very high open-toed black leather mules.
She looks stunning, and blushes furiously as the two mistresses tease her about one rather striking aspect of the sexy and very tight silk teddy – the fact that the crotch section is essentially a semi-transparent silken flap that can be unbuttoned (there is a row of neat tiny pearl buttons) to enable access to Annette’s large hard tightly restrained sex.
As Mistress Anne proceeds to bind poor Annette’s long bronzed arms behind her back at the wrists and elbows with white rubber-coated cording, Mistress Celine teasingly unbuttons the flap and then pulls the sissy’s impressive cock out with her rubber-gloved hands.
Annette squeals with frightened pleasure and wiggles her pretty, silk-sheathed bottom. Mistress Anne delivers three very hard slaps to this near perfect behind and a look of intense masochistic arousal fills Annette’s striking emerald eyes.
Mistress Celine fondles the sissy’s sex, only adding to the ballet of helpless arousal. The sissy’s cock is huge, sealed tightly in shining black latex rubber. It is a work of dark sissy art, and at the base of the scrotum hangs a golden ring, a ring to which Mistress Celine now attaches a silv
er leash.
Poor Annette watches this fiendish intervention with terror-streaked eyes and a moan of desperate need slips from her strawberry lips.
Mistress Celine then tugs on the leash and the sissy releases a cry of pain and pleasure.
‘Gag her,’ she orders Mistress Anne.
The older French beauty smiles and nods. She pulls from a small side pocket in her startling cat suit a pair of white silk panties.
‘A little present from Myriam,’ she whispers. ‘Taken off her just over an hour ago.’
Mistress Anne steps forward and unceremoniously stuffs the panty gag into Annette’s sweet sissy mouth. As she does this, Mistress Celine produces a thick roll of black masking tape. Annette’s eyes widen with a very obvious sexual pleasure as the pungent panties are forced home, and she whimpers with a delightful sissy pleasure as Celine proceeds to tape them firmly in place.
The gorgeous red-headed sissy is then led by the leash towards the leather-backed training bench. Her perfect buttocks wobble uncontrollably and her significant perfectly sculpted bosom bounces with a gloriously erotic enthusiasm. Despite her fear, she is clearly very excited, especially since the gagging.
By this point, my desperate peddling is becoming a significant challenge. My legs are heavy with effort; huge pools of sweat have gathered under my arms and tormented breasts. My face is soaked in a film of hot pungent sweat. My breathing has become extremely laboured and there is no doubt that I am beginning to cross the border between consciousness and unconsciousness.
Poor beautiful Myriam is now also at the very edge of breaking, her eyes filled with a pleasure that has smashed through its own barrier into a realm of real and terrible pain; yet, even in the heart of this bizarre discomfort, her gaze is still filled with a hunger for me, an obvious unyielding need which is both mystifying and truly amazing.
I feel my tired legs slow and the phallus heats up. I squeal for help, a useless demand. My mistresses are far too preoccupied with Annette’s fate to take any notice of my sufferings.
They have made the gorgeous well endowed red-head stand directly in front of the leather-covered gymnastic bar. Then she is ordered to lean over it, so that her stomach is resting on the bar, her large breasts and head are draped over one side and her bottom is hauled up into the air by the weight of her upper body. Then the leash attached to the scrotum ring is removed and the joined end of the other leash that runs from the two brutal nipple clamps is attached to the ring. This has the effect of creating a fiendish and very painful counterbalance leaving her swaying over the bar. Her arms are then pulled out at exact right angles to her body, so that they run along the length of the bar. They are then strapped tightly into position at the wrists and elbows and poor Annette is immobilised and exposed. This exposure is made so much worse when Mistress Anne steps forward and begins to unbutton a second flap that covers the space between Annette’s exquisitely formed buttocks.
Once the flap is pulled aside, a perfect few of the sissy’s exposed arsehole is provided, a view made much better by the fact that her bottom is now directly beneath one of the powerful white strip lights that illuminate the studio. The pink tip of her vibrator is clearly visible – indicating a depth of intrusion into the anus that excites my own masochistic cravings, despite the increasing discomfort caused by the phallus inside me. I increase the volume of my well-gagged pleas for mercy and release, and still there is no response from the beautiful cruel and imperial mistresses.
Mistress Celine steps forward and carefully works the long hard vibrator out of poor Annette’s well stretched and trained arse. A smile of sadistic amusement lights up her sharp-featured and still strangely girlish face. And as soon as the vibrator is pulled free, she steps back to give Mistress Anne access to this pretty sissy orifice.
There are no words exchanged, just a cold knowing glance between these expert and deeply perverse mistresses, and then Mistress Anne takes her dark unforgiving pleasure, plunging her phallic intruder deep into Annette’s arse. The sissy unleashes a squeal of utter outrage and agony into her fat pungent panty gag, another melodramatic cry that inspires Mistress Celine to burst out laughing and remove the vicious-looking riding crop from her thick black leather belt.
Annette continues to buck and squeal as she is anally raped by an obviously very excited Mistress Anne.
‘Ride ’em, Cowboy!’ Mistress Celine shouts.
Anne then suddenly withdraws from her sissy prey and Mistress Celine steps forward to deliver five hard painful cuts of the crop to Annette’s helplessly exposed behind. The sissy screams into her gag in agony, fighting uselessly against her kinky bonds. And the more she struggles, the more pain she imparts, thanks to the evil manner in which her clamped breasts have been attached to her scrotum!
Then it is Mistress Celine’s turn to violate the gorgeous deeply tormented redhead. And as she does so, Mistress Anne turns to me, her wicked smile a warning of a truly mercilessly heart.
‘Better let you cool down or you might explode,’ she whispers, leaning forward and pulling the plug out of the exercise bike. She then flicks down a switch close to the plug and almost immediately the phallus begins to cool.
I look over at Myriam. The torments of the vibrators had begun to lessen as soon as I began to run out of energy, so she has now managed to recover an element of sanity. She looks at me and Mistress Anne through a film of sweat, her gag-packed cheeks crimson, her eyes wild with sex hunger, her body still vibrating erotically to the memory pulse of her sinister and brutal intruders.
Mistress Anne turns to face Myriam and whispers soft teasing words in French. Unlike their last conversation, Myriam responds with a moan of pleasure and a helpless nod.
‘She likes you,’ Anne says, turning back to me. ‘A little more than she should. But you are rather lovely, my little sexy petal, so we must try and forgive Myriam her weakness. And, to be honest, she has suffered for her art this afternoon. So perhaps now it is time to give her a little reward.’
Mistress Celine has withdrawn from poor Annette, leaving the sexy sissy a simpering wreck of hopeless and eternal masochistic need. As her large, crystalline tears strike the rubber-matted floor of the studio, the two wickedly imaginative mistresses begin to free me from the deeply testing and perversely arousing exercise bike.
By the time I am lowered onto my weakened worn-out legs, I am at least half returned to normal consciousness. I feel my hard tightly imprisoned cock press into my stomach and I know I am still alive. Desire is the engine of everything, the machine that drives us through the chaotic jungle of life. And I, like all human beings, am merely its helpless agent.
As Mistress Celine helps me take a few tentative pained steps forward in the high-heeled shoes, Mistress Anne begins to remove the layers of thick black tape securing poor Myriam to the mobile pole.
As Annette continues to sob and whimper, I cannot help staring at her crimson striped backside with a sadistic pleasure.
‘You enjoyed watching her suffer, didn’t you?’ Mistress Celine asks, her dark eyes filled with an amused curiosity.
I nod and her smile widens.
‘Yes, of course you did. We all did. You are part of something beyond yourself, Shelly. Like we all are. A terrible, vital power. One or two of our sisterhood try to pretend this power is a perversion of men. But we know better. It is the power of the human being itself, my sexy sissy slut; the power to control, to manipulate and to destroy. Its tool is desire, its product is domination.’
Myriam, covered in sweat, her eyes wide with a fierce blinding arousal, is helped down from the platform by the gorgeous wicked Mistress Anne, who whispers sensually dark and deeply perverse French lullabies of cruelty and control.
Then a bizarre, even comic moment: Myriam is made to hop across the room to me, her large perfectly formed bosom bouncing uncontrollably, every inch of her buxom Gallic form exposed and extenuated by the tight black Senso rubber of the body glove – a sight that fills the eyes of the mistresses a
nd myself with a helpless endless longing.
Myriam is in her late teens and a vision of ample loveliness; her ripeness, the fact of her perfect sexual timeliness, is at the core of her attraction. Yet this is framed by the naivety of her gaze, by the innocence of her desiring look. I know the women find her helpless naturalness, the total lack of reflection or cunning, another essential facet of her appeal. To overwhelm and control this innocence, to defile it with a fascist enthusiasm, is undoubtedly a vital part of the pleasure they take in torturing and humiliating her. And, strangely, I can sympathise with them while also envying her. At these moments, I am lost in a grey space between sadism and masochism, between utter submission and the bloody hunger for control. It is, perhaps, the natural space for me – the locus of absolute ambiguity.
‘We have to finish off Annette and then prepare ourselves for an evening engagement,’ Mistress Anne says, inspiring a moan of erotic terror from the tethered, prone she-male beauty. ‘So, we thought you two should have an opportunity for a little relaxation.’
Mistress Celine takes the leash around my neck and leads me towards to the far wall of the studio. Mistress Anne taps Myriam on her rubber-sealed bottom with the crop and she hops rather absurdly after us.
By the wall, we discover a narrow cupboard door. Mistress Celine opens it to reveal a small closet, of the kind normally used to store brooms or ironing boards. As we stare fearfully into this dark space, Mistress Celine produces rolls of black masking tape again and I stare at Myriam with a sense of exquisite anticipation. She returns my gaze with a look of dizzying adoration. Her need is like a blow to the heart, a need that is also a terrible pain, the self-destructive essence of desire.
Silken Servitude Page 14